


Only If You Press Down Hard

by mousapelli



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sexting, Sports injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 04:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16946820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousapelli/pseuds/mousapelli
Summary: Yuri sends Otabek a picture of his bruise, and it turns competitive and risque quickly.





	Only If You Press Down Hard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldielocking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldielocking/gifts).



> Written for 2018 SportsFest, Bonus Round 1. "A game of ‘check out how badass my bruise is!’ turns into a game of Sext Chicken as the selfies the boys are texting get racier and racier."
> 
> I wrote the whole thing about a pairing not listed in the prompt bc I'm an idiot and had to ask Goldie to edit the prompt so I could post it.

The first picture comes without any warning, and it takes Otabek's brain a long second to resolve the pixels into an image that makes sense. It's Yuri, but only from throat to shoulder, two fingers hooked in the V-neck of a soft-worn black T-shirt, dragging the fabric down to show off the column of his throat, his collarbone, and the edge of his pectoral muscle, bunched tight with the motion.

"Whoa!" one of the friends he's at dinner with whoops, startling him. She grins at him, eyes flashing with mischief. "Who on earth is sexting _you_?"

"He's not sexting me," Otabek scowls, brows drawing tight, but the picture is…Otabek doesn't know what it is. He texts Yuri back a question mark.

[lookit my badass bruise] Yuri sends back and oh, yes, there is a bruise showing just outside the edge of Yuri's shirt, vivid blue rising on his pale skin.

[that's all?] Otabek asks. It seems a bit strange, although Yuri often sends him snaps of things which border on entirely inconsequential, like a shirt he thinks is amazing or an off-center shot of the sun through tree leaves or a selfie of a competition hairstyle he's trying out. Yuri's certainly had more impressive bruises, at any rate.

[like to see u do better] Yuri challenges. Shrugging, Otabek strips off his jacket, rolls up his T-shirt sleeve, and has someone else at the table take a shot of the green-purple-yellow mess that's been covering his elbow since Sunday morning.

He doesn't think much of the exchange on his motorcycle ride home, although he can feel the gentle buzz of Yuri's texts arriving now and against in the pocket of his jeans, slightly different than the rumble of the motorcycle between his thighs.

When he's inside his apartment he looks, and nearly drops the phone because this time Yuri is entirely shirtless and pushing his leggings down just enough to show quite the winner of a bruise smothering the outside of his hip. The last text was barely ten minutes ago and is just an expectant [well?].

"This means war," Otabek mutters to himself. He goes to his room to strip off his jeans and shirt, tugging on a loose pair of sweatpants, then uses the mirror hung on the back of his door to take a shot of the awful beating his shoulder took last week, slamming into the ice and then the barrier. It's only after he's sent the shot that he reconsiders his shirtless back and the rise of his brief's just above the waistband of his sweats.

Are they sexting? Otabek wonders, chuckling at himself in mild exasperation that it's a question he has to ask himself and that he doesn't honestly know the answer. The suddenness and intensity of their friendship in person, of their texts and Skyping when apart, are nothing like Otabek's other friendships. Lately sometimes Otabek has the urge to push down on their friendship, like digging his thumb into a bruise just to feel it hurt, just to see whether it's really friendship or not.

Because friends absolutely do not send just friends a close-up of the inside of their thigh from knee to the shadow of their groin, even if that skin is mottled in fading blues and lavenders the wouldn't look out of place on a hydrangea.

Otabek cannot top this. He sends only the word [Skype] and then goes to open his laptop without waiting to see if Yuri texts back or not. Yuri's username appears on Otabek's list and he answers on the second jingle of the Skype noise. He's still wearing the black V-neck, the shadow of the first bruise just visible at the edge of it, but sweatpants. Otabek can't help but picture Yuri stripping off the leggings, twisting and stretching to take the perfect shot of his skin.

"Does it hurt?" Otabek asks. He leans back in his desk chair, arms folded; expression attentive, Yuri leans in closer towards his laptop screen as if wanting to keep the distance the same.

"Only if you press fingers into it," Yuri says. He says "if you" instead of "if I" and Otabek notices it the same way as he notices everything about Yuri, all at once and deep in his chest, somewhere slightly left of center. "I won, right?"

Otabek shrugs a shoulder. A grin spreads over Yuri's face as he combs the long strands of his hair back from his face and twists it into a golden knot.

"So what do I get?" Yuri wants to know. He lets go of his hair and it all tumbles down again, shakes it back impatiently. "For winning?"

Otabek leans forward, meeting Yuri's intense, too-direct gaze with his own, feeling the corner of his mouth curl up and watching Yuri's eyes draw to it.

"Well," he answers, spreading his fingers wide. "What do you want?"


End file.
